


nah, fam

by fruti2flutie



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: ??????, Alternate Universe - College/University, Humor, M/M, this is not a serious fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruti2flutie/pseuds/fruti2flutie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘you found me in a mall crying over a bowl of noodles i dropped and i s2g im not usually like this im just having a really weird week’ au (or, alternatively, where hoseok's life may or may not turn to shit in less than 7k)</p>
            </blockquote>





	nah, fam

**Author's Note:**

> ??¿¿¿??¿¿¿?¿¿??? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ????¿¿??¿¿¿???¿¿???
> 
> so this is my first posted mx fic, which is saying smthn abt me bc the rest of my mx wips r serious & angsty as HELL. this is so ridiculous, i have dishonored my family, but what else is new amiright????? prompt came from [here](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/post/113482576611/hot-mess-otp-aus-pt-3-i-called-the-wrong-number), enjoy at ur own risk

It all starts off on Sunday, 10:16 p.m., when Hoseok belatedly realizes his literary analysis is due at midnight. Actually, 11:59 p.m., because there’s that one minute of undeserving mercy given by his withering British Literature professor. It does little to appease him and, unfortunately, does not change the fact he does not have it completed.

“I’m fucked,” groans Hoseok as he rolls over his sheets, taking the nearest pillow and muffling his screams with it. It turns out to be Minhyuk’s, with pink and yellow polka-dots, and it smells like six different Bath & Body Works scents.

Minhyuk, who has his laptop in front of him, sitting across the room on his own bed, gives a genuine applause. “Good for you, hyung — it’s about time! I’m happy for you!”

Hoseok’s groans turn shrill, distressed and dolphin-like. “No, fucked in a _bad_ way, Minhyuk. I do not like being fucked in this manner.” After a moment of thought he takes the pillow away from his face and says, “But thank you for thinking I have a life outside of college. It makes me feel like a worthy human.”

Cue finger guns and a wink. “Don’t mention it. You’re mediocre in your own way, hyung!” Minhyuk looks up from his screen and at Hoseok, frowning slightly. “Uh, do you plan on — I dunno — _starting_ anytime soon?”

“Let me mope for a few more minutes. Then we’ll see.”

“Whatever you say, hyung,” hums Minhyuk, who’s actually a giant hypocrite because he’s currently on MS Paint drawing his artistic interpretation of Hyungwon’s dick instead of researching for his psychology paper. He’ll probably print out and laminate the monstrosity when he’s done. Frame it, too.

After a few Buzzfeed videos, three cans of Red Bull, and two packages of shrimp-flavored ramen Hoseok revs his engine to tackle the eight-page paper head first. He’s already written half of it; all he needs now is a couple body paragraphs and a conclusion. No sweat. A piece of cake. He’s got over an hour, which is plenty of time.

By 11:58 p.m. Hoseok is sending his professor an email with his essay attached, shitty as hell but completed and hopefully deserving of no less than a _D_. He shuts his laptop and lets out a slightly hysterical cheer, pumping his fists in the air like he’d been the last one to cross the finish line but still gets a participation ribbon.

“Finished?” Minhyuk asks, and Hoseok smiles widely and nods. “Wow, hyung, I’m totally impressed! All eight pages? Did you get the works cited page, too?”

Hoseok freezes. The works cited page, aka worth nearly a whole quarter of his assignment. “Are... Are you _kidding_ me?” That’s fucking spectacular. Rolling up his sleeves, he gets ready to fling himself out the window and onto the cold snow down below, but Minhyuk tiredly pulls him back inside as he screeches, “Why didn’t you remind me _sooner_!?”

Minhyuk strokes the top of his head, cooing softly, “I was perfecting Hyungwon’s pixelated penis, hyung. Tongue-twister aside, that’s a more important engagement.”

Hoseok should have expected that. The clock strikes twelve, and he sadly wonders if he’s a modern Cinderella, sent home from the ball because of a missing works cited page and a horny roommate.

—

Monday could’ve been worse. Hoseok hadn’t woken up from his seven a.m. alarm and nearly missed the bus to the university. When he went to the Starbucks a few blocks down from the campus the worker got his order wrong — she gave him a tall white chocolate mocha when he asked (and paid!!) for a venti — but it was too late to request for a refund. And, to top it all off, during British Literature the professor put in a two hour Shakespeare documentary so he could grade the prior night’s essays. Hoseok dozed off for a while, but when he came back to reality he saw his professor look him dead in the eyes and mouth the words, _why did you do this_.

So, honestly, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Hoseok is looking on the bright side!

Right now it’s Tuesday night, and the day so far has been going fine. That is, until Hoseok gets locked out of the apartment when he comes back from school. And, not only that, he’d forgotten his phone at the charger this morning and can’t call Minhyuk for the key.

“Just my luck,” grumbles Hoseok, kicking the bottom of the door. “Ow.” He sits against the wall, sighing. At least he wore his favorite coat, padded and downy, which he can nuzzle his face into while his face gets cold. He supposes he should weigh his possible options, as well.

Minhyuk must be at dance practice with Hyungwon, and afterwards they’re probably going to make out for the next two hours. The landlady is on vacation in Hawaii, so he can’t even ask for her help either. And it’s too late in the night to trust anything from strangers off the road — Hoseok has learned his lesson from that time he took directions from wrinkly women carrying broomsticks, don’t even remind him, Halloween in April is a _lie_. His only hope is his neighbor across the hall, whom he knows is a university student like himself, meaning he’d be back around this time or earlier.

(Hoseok had met him once, almost a year ago, when he and Minhyuk had first moved in. It hadn’t been legit. His neighbor accidentally left his door wide open and Hoseok took it upon himself to yell that it was, to which his neighbor shouted from inside, “Thanks, man!”)

“Might as well try.” Hoseok rises and raps his knuckles on his neighbor’s door.

He doesn’t expect it to open so quickly, revealing a man a little taller than himself and healthily tan compared to the ricecake shade his own skin harbors. He’s also wearing a tank top, in _winter_ , which shows off well-defined muscles that rival the tiger Kim Jongkook’s. It’s a bit of an odd combination, given how unbelievably soft his features are as he stares at Hoseok blankly.

“Hello,” says his neighbor — Hyunwoo is his name. Hoseok recalls seeing it on the mailbox downstairs. “Do you need something?”

Regaining focus on the issue at hand, Hoseok nods furiously. “Yeah, um, can you help me out?”

“With what?” Hyunwoo blinks. “I’m sorry to ask this, but who are you?”

That makes Hoseok frown. He’d expected that, but it still hurts his pride. “Shin Hoseok. I live—” He jerks his thumb to the door behind him, “—right there.”

Immediately, Hyunwoo is apologetic and smiles warmly. (Hoseok is reminded of those grizzly bears that do nothing but scratch their bellies and sleep all day.) “Oh, sorry! I don’t know most of the tenants here. My bad.”

“It’s cool,” assures Hoseok, a little winded. Hyunwoo is kind of handsome, in a sort of cute way, and it makes his stomach stir with butterflies. He’s afraid of bugs, so maybe that’s not a good thing.

“Hoseok?” Hyunwoo tries, to which Hoseok nods cheerily. “What is it you need?”

“I locked myself out, and I don’t have my phone to call my roommate who has the other key. If it’s not too much to ask, can I borrow your phone?”

“Yeah, sure.” Hyunwoo rubs at his neck, a humble smile decorating his face. “You can come in for some coffee, too. You look a little frozen.”

Hoseok grins. This invitation sounds wonderful, getting to spend some quality time with an attractive tenant. It’s the makings of a stay-in date, if Hoseok views it in the most positive sense, which of course he does. Not often does a chance like this come around, and Hoseok is more than ecstatic to accept.

“Great! I’d love to! Thank you so—”

“ _Hyung_!” slurs a chippy voice, from down the hall, none other than Lee Minhyuk’s. He staggers towards Hoseok, practically knocking heads with the elder. “Oh? Hoseok hyung! What’re you doing out here? It’s cold!” He glances at Hyunwoo, squints, and then salutes. “Greetings, Captain Biceps.”

Hyunwoo, amused, salutes back. Minhyuk doesn’t stop saluting until Hyunwoo puts his hand down.

“Minhyuk, are you _drunk_?” scoffs Hoseok. He can smell soju and beer on Minhyuk’s breath, and he grimaces. “It’s Tuesday, you little fucker. Why are you like this.”

Brightly, Minhyuk throws his arms in the air and cheers, “It’s Tuesday!” Around the corner, an old man tells them to quiet down before he calls the cops. Minhyuk refuses to be deterred and keeps his arms high.

“Who gets drunk on a Tuesday,” murmurs Hyunwoo, with a mix of scorn and wonder in his hushed tone.

Minhyuk, quite aggressively, hits the front of Hyunwoo’s chest — he even stumbles a bit, but it looks like it hurts Minhyuk more. “ _I_ do! _I_ get drunk on a Tuesday!” he declares hotly, like it’s a feat to be proud of. “Listen, Captain, if you’re gonna judge me for my poor life choices then I am willing to fight, _mano y mano_. You, me, and the McDonald’s parking lot down the road.” He sniffles. “Hoseok hyung can be the referee.”

“No,” Hoseok says, flat. “Not again.”

“I’d... rather not,” says Hyunwoo, and he glances at Hoseok, a wordless exchange that breathes _i don’t know how to handle this situation currently_.

Sighing, Hoseok pulls Minhyuk away from Hyunwoo’s door and asks, “Can we get a raincheck on that coffee, Hyunwoo? I can’t leave this menace unsupervised in our apartment.”

Hyunwoo nods stiffly. “Some other time. Have a good night,” he proclaims, closing his door while Hoseok waves goodbye and Minhyuk gives him the finger.

After Hoseok wrestles the key from under Minhyuk’s belt (why he has it there is unbeknownst to anyone) Minhyuk is led to the kitchen to have a glass of water and sober up. Hoseok scolds him for a while, telling him how irresponsible he is for drinking like this on a weeknight, but it goes through one ear and out the other. Hoseok realizes this belatedly, when Minhyuk begins dozing off into his cup, and holds off the lecture for another day.

Minhyuk is tickled pink when his friend tucks him into bed, around one in the morning. “Thanks, hyung. You’re the best. I’m all toasty, like I’m a slice of bread in the toaster.” He falls asleep roughly three seconds later.

Hoseok says, exasperated, “I hate you so much,” and turns off the light.

—

Minhyuk wakes up on Wednesday with a massive hangover, which Hoseok wholly believes is karma rightfully delivered. Sometime between noon and evening, though, he decides that he’s perfectly well enough to fuck Hyungwon on the couch — with zero pretense or warning of any sort to Hoseok, who had been pretty cheerful up until he walked in on them.

(“HAS ANYONE HEARD OF PRIVACY,” Hyungwon had shrieked, scrambling to locate his clothes. With only his bottom half dressed he passed by a stricken Hoseok and practically flew out the door.

For the next five minutes Hoseok had continuously banged his head on the wall — a weak attempt to give himself amnesia or a concussion — and wailed, “Have you fucking heard of a sock on the doorknob or, like, _not_ the couch I use to take my midday naps?”

Much too nonchalant, stark naked, and flushed red, Minhyuk had patted the cushions and hummed, “You can still use it, hyung.”

“Damn it, Minhyuk, I am _this close_ to lighting it on fire.”)

Seriously, it is _not_ Hoseok’s week at all.

He returns home on Thursday night absolutely drained, because the bus had broken down midway which forced him to walk three miles on foot, slipping on patches of ice nearly every time he stepped on them. (And, believe him, Seoul winters cause a lot of fucking water to freeze over.) There are definitely bruises on his ass from falling so much, and he does not look forward to surveying the damage.

Hoseok heads straight to the bathroom and hops into the shower. As expected, the skin around Hoseok’s tailbone and knees is tender to the touch, light pink and borderline purple. He’ll have to ice it later, but the heat of the warm water feels too nice to think about that right now. Plus, he’s had enough of ice for one day.

“Hyung, you’re normally unlucky,” remarks Minhyuk, on the couch, when Hoseok comes out of the bathroom. He’d prepared a feast, which means Hyungwon must be on a diet and/or hibernating.

Setting his towel around his neck Hoseok shuffles over to the table, where Minhyuk has set up twelve slices of pizza, mugs of hot chocolate, shrimp chips, and a variety of half-eaten packages candy. “Fair enough, but—” A glance at the once pristine couch, a resurfaced memory. Hoseok shields his eyes. “Oh, God, war flashbacks.”

“Stop being dramatic! I cleaned it,” Minhyuk whines. He bounces on the cushion and pats the spot beside him. “Before the pizza gets cold, hyung.”

So they chill. Minhyuk has on reruns of _Law of the Jungle_ , where celebrities survive nature, testing their athleticism and courage. Both of them marvel at the abs famous athletes showcase, but Hoseok continuously claims his are _far_ more superior. Minhyuk rolls his eyes at that comment and sips at his cocoa like it’s tea. We both go to the same gym, Hoseok defends, you’ve _seen_ me benchpress the equivalent of, like, sixteen babies. Unfortunately, Minhyuk refuses to be swayed.

Around ten, their mugs run empty. _Law of the Jungle_ switches to _Immortal Songs 2_ — reality survival to competitive singing. Minhyuk loves hearing a good artist perform, and Hoseok is no different. Ailee the Actual Queen™ is about to perform when suddenly a high-pitched ringing comes from outside the apartment, making both of them jolt.

“What’s that noise?” Hoseok frowns, whipping his head around. “The fire alarm?”

Minhyuk’s eyes go wide. “Is it? Do we have to evacuate? Holy shit, is this really happening!?”

Hoseok scrambles to stand, half a pizza slice still in his mouth. “How am I supposed to answer that? Jesus Christ, grab your coat and come outside!”

Minhyuk is torn between taking another bite of a Twizzler and heading to his bedroom. “But! All my stuff!” He gasps. “My laptop! My new jeans! My calligraphy books!”

“Pray this is false alarm, then,” barks Hoseok. He tosses Minhyuk’s coat at him as he pulls on his own. “Do you want to die? Literally? Hurry up!”

They scamper outside and see that all the other tenants have done the same, murmuring amongst themselves in the dark of night. The newlyweds from the second floor are in one another’s arms, like a scene straight from a B-grade drama. The shut-in on the third floor, who only comes out to buy triangle kimbap and milk, is in his indoor slippers and fretfully wringing his hands. Many of the tenants are sleepy-eyed and yawning. And then there’s Minhyuk and Hoseok, the grease of the pizza still on their fingers, groaning in despair.

“It’s fucking cold,” chatters Hoseok, shivering. “It’s fucking cold! As! Fuck!” Belatedly, he realizes that a) it’s the middle of the night, no one wants to hear his whining, and b) there are possibly children present, so profanity is a no-no. “It’s cold.”

“You’re telling me, Sherlock,” Minhyuk grits out, staring at his bare legs that are exposed by his basketball shorts. While he mourns over his calves he notices something across the lot and hurriedly slaps Hoseok’s shoulder, saying, “Hey, isn’t that our neighbor?”

 _Our neighbor_ has very recently become the unofficial codename for Hyunwoo, who Minhyuk also refers to as Captain Biceps, Adonis, I-Robot, etc., etc. Hyunwoo, like the other tenants, is waiting for further instruction on this cold night, but the one thing that makes him stand out from the rest is his complete _lack of_ _clothing_. He only has a flimsy towel around his waist, revealing a toned and glistening chest. There are also thick-framed glasses on his face, which make him look like a teacher’s pet who tries too hard. He’s truly... a sight to see.

“That guy must have frozen balls,” snickers Minhyuk.

“How in the hell,” Hoseok murmurs, ogling quite openly. Hyunwoo’s body is actually really, _really_ great. Like, whew. “Why— Why didn’t he put on some clothes? Oh my God. Hasn’t he heard of hypothermia? My dude.”

“I wouldn’t know. You go ask him,” urges Minhyuk, smiling wryly.

Hoseok scoffs, but in all honestly he doesn’t want to miss this once in a lifetime opportunity of talking to someone who is practically naked in freezing weather. It’ll be quite the story to tell his mom when she visits, that’s for sure.

Skipping over to his neighbor, Hoseok holds his hands deep in his pockets and shouts, “Hyunwoo!” He smiles widely when he gets noticed.

Hyunwoo turns to him, rubbing absently at his arms. “Oh, Hoseok, hi.” He grins, and Hoseok feels all fuzzy inside. “How’ve you been?”

Hoseok shrugs and hums, “Could be better, I guess. It’s too cold out for the fire alarm to go off! Reminds me of some hidden camera, except none of us are famous... yet.” Hyunwoo chuckles, and it causes him to involuntarily shiver.

“Do you want to borrow my coat?” asks Hoseok, already grasping and pulling the zipper, concerned. “You sure need it more than I do. I wouldn’t want _you_ to get frozen now.”

“If it’s not too much to ask,” Hyunwoo responds, not even attempting to hide his eagerness.

Hoseok wraps his coat around Hyunwoo’s shoulders (because the diameter of his arm is nearly twice that of Hoseok’s) and marvels at how ridiculous this situation continues to be. Hyunwoo, with a crease in his brow, must be thinking the same.

“So? Was the jungle calling for you, Tarzan, or what?” teases Hoseok.

Hyunwoo wrinkles his nose. “Well, it was on accident. See, I’d just showered. I was in the middle of drying my hair when I heard the alarm, and I went straight from there.” He sighs. “Which, looking back on it, wasn’t the smartest idea on my end.”

Hoseok laughs. They end up talking more, about school and each other, unintentionally huddling closer for warmth, like penguins. Caught up in Hoseok’s stories Hyunwoo looks giddy hearing him speak so animatedly. Hoseok is bright despite the cold, and Hyunwoo appreciates it.

(Across the lot Minhyuk is talking with a guy from his writing class, Jooheon, with supple skin and impressive lyricism. Minhyuk pokes his fingers into his dimples every time he tries to talk about social justice and the underground rap scene.)

“Do you think this is real?” Hoseok asks, twenty minutes after everyone had first gone outside. “The alarm, I mean. It’s been a while, and no one has said anything...” The landlady isn’t here, but someone of authority _must_ know what’s happening.

“I hope it isn’t. I wouldn’t want anybody’s stuff to burn down,” Hyunwoo says thoughtfully. “Even so, because of it I got to talk with you again. That was nice.”

The butterflies in Hoseok’s stomach refuse to calm down. If not for the winter wind already making his cheeks flush, he’d be an even darker shade of red, crimson or maroon. Damn it, he’s almost halfway to fifty — why the hell is he _blushing_? Fuck, it has to be because of that damn towel around Hyunwoo’s waist. No one should be allowed to do that.

Someone comes out of the building, then, who Hoseok recognizes as the landlady’s younger brother, in his mid thirties. “I apologize dearly to everyone!” he calls, gathering the attention of all the confused tenants. “That was thankfully _not_ a legitimate alarm, so you needn’t worry about a fire! It was a malfunction, which we will fix as soon as possible. Now I’m sure you’re all very cold—”

“Hell yeah I am!” That’s Minhyuk.

The landlady’s brother whimpers, and he announces shortly, “If we could have everyone congregate in a single-file line to the door that would help this process immensely. Thank you for your cooperation, and once again I apologize! It wasn’t my fault!”

The tenants comply easily. A good handful of people go in front of them before Hoseok and Hyunwoo climb the stairs together, chatting as they step. When they get to their floor they stand in front of Hyunwoo’s door first, vaguely reminiscent of walk homes from first dates.

“I should give this back,” Hyunwoo says, moving to take off Hoseok’s coat, but Hoseok stops him.

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I wouldn’t want you to expose yourself for no good reason,” Hoseok chuckles. “Return it to me later?”

Nodding, Hyunwoo agrees, “Alright.” He smiles, shy. “Hey, about that coffee—”

It takes roughly four seconds for Hoseok’s brain to properly interpret the upcoming offer — it’s another invitation! For coffee! A date!! (Possibly!!!) He’s only half a second from cutting Hyunwoo off completely and blurting _jesus christ i’ll take it and you any day i’m so thirsty_ , ignoring the anxiousness from coming off too eager, when he hears the most shrill scream from his own apartment.

“ _HOSEOK HYUNG_.” Minhyuk? Again? What the hell?

“I think that’s your cue to go,” says Hyunwoo, and if Hoseok’s eyes aren’t deceiving him it’s like he’s disappointed at the turnabout.

Hoseok leans against the wall, all casual. “I’m sure he can handle himself. Minhyuk is a big boy, you see—”

“ _WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, HYUNG. I’M GONNA DIE WITHOUT YOU._ ”

Hyunwoo laughs aloud while Hoseok hangs his head, defeated. “Well then,” mutters Hoseok. “I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” Hyunwoo says. “I hope we don’t meet out in the cold next time, though. I’ve had enough of that.” He opens his door and pauses. “Thank you for the coat, too. I can’t say it enough.”

Hoseok waves him away, grinning, and returns to his apartment, where Minhyuk is standing on the kitchen counter and holding a broom over his head. He’s sweating a lot for a guy who was freezing his ass off five minutes ago.

So, clearly, Hoseok is confused. “Minhyuk, what’re you—”

Minhyuk hurriedly shushes him, desperately, and points his broom at the table in front of the TV. All the pizza from before they left is still out, and along with them is a furry creature with a half eaten crust in its claws.

Naturally, Hoseok’s response is a loud, “FUCK,” which makes Minhyuk scream, Hoseok scream more, and the rat startle — and, once again, Hoseok is reminded he’s having the shittiest week.

—

“This is all because of global warming,” mumbles Hoseok, cocooned in his bedsheets, sitting up so Kihyun can take his temperature. He feels like someone ran him over with their bike, twice. In the other bed Minhyuk is sleeping, a damp towel on his forehead, much more at ease than the suffering blob named Shin Hoseok.

“Don’t talk,” scolds Kihyun, mother hen of their friends and a questionable pharmacy major. (He may or may not have dabbled in drug “studies” during his highschool years. Experience, he supposes.) “It’s going to fall out of your mouth like that. Want me to shove it into your ear?”

Hoseok pouts. “Geez, pushy much.” Other than that, he quiets. A few seconds go by and the thermometer beeps.

Kihyun rolls his eyes as he takes the thermometer out. He reads the number aloud and chides, “Your fever could put you in the emergency room, hyung. It’s that bad.”

“I’m not admitting myself into a hospital!” exclaims Hoseok, and he falls into a brief coughing fit. Kihyun pats his back. “Do you know how expensive that is? I can barely afford toilet paper,” he grumbles.

“What has our world come to,” Kihyun says, “that money will trump over our own health and wellbeing.”

“Didn’t you say that you would suck Changkyun’s dick for a ₩500 coin,” deadpans Hoseok, very aware of the color change in Kihyun’s cheeks. “Like, that was when we just met him, too.”

“Different circumstances,” defends Kihyun. “Also I was drunk off my ass. Don’t you fucking dare tell him I said that, he does _not_ need to know.”

“You’re such a kid,” scoffs Hoseok, pouting. “He’s younger than you and as cute as a button. Why can’t you confess you wanna date him? Hold hands and shit.”

Kihyun bawks, leaving the room for a moment and returning with a glass of water and two pills. “Excuse you, hyung. I have the coldhearted reputation of a city man to uphold,” he declares, and he gives Hoseok the water and drops the pills in his other hand. “Take the ibuprofen and sleep.”

“Yes, Nurse Yoo.” Hoseok, after swallowing down the pills with a large gulp of water, scrutinizes his cup. “Did you spit in this water?”

“I’ll be back after my shift at the pharmacy is over,” Kihyun says, ignoring him. Hoseok thinks he spit in his water, and coughs in disgust.

“Thanks a bunch,” Hoseok says, despite himself. “We’re sickos who can’t take care of themselves. We are humbly grateful for having you as a friend, Kihyun. God speed.”

The praise gives Kihyun unwanted chills and he says, with distaste, “Ugh, you and Minhyuk, though he’s not as _nearly_ as bad as you.” Hoseok aims his next sneeze in Kihyun’s direction, and Kihyun cringes. “Gross. What’d you even do to get like this?”

“I’m an avid sinner. This is God’s way of telling me not to masturbate.”

“And you’re calling _me_ a kid,” snorts Kihyun. “Hyung, you’re seriously like some fourteen-year-old who’s still in the closet.”

“Rude,” Hoseok whines.

“True,” says Minhyuk, cracking open an eye. He’s feverish, too, but he’s well rested now and sits up. “You go through lotion bottles like no other, hyung.”

“I get dry skin!”

“Yeah, _sure_. And that’s why you need a boyfriend,” Minhyuk snickers. Kihyun is about to give him a high-five but decides against it because ew, germs.

Kihyun grabs his backpack and pats the foot of Hoseok’s bed. “Okay, I’m really leaving now. Rest, you two. Text me if you’re legit dying, or call 119.”

When Kihyun leaves, Minhyuk wraps his blanket around himself and hobbles to the living room, undoubtedly going to watch some SBS drama and cry. That’s normally his go-to when he’s stuck inside. Hoseok, on the other hand, decides to try to follow Kihyun’s instructions and take a nap. Although it takes some fitful tossing and turning, he successfully gives himself a few hours of snoozing.

When he awakens Hoseok is far more disoriented than he’d expected. Medicine has always made him woozy, but it feels especially bad right now — his brain feels like pudding. The clock reads about five, which means there’s still another three hours until Kihyun comes back. Hoseok’s current state isn’t close to _dying_ , so he can wait.

According to Hoseok’s stomach he’s hungry. All he had to eat today was a package of mini muffins, and that’s long been digested and forgotten. What he needs now is dinner, and what sounds perfect is a piping hot bowl of ramen. The thought puts a smile on his sniffling, snotty face.

Hoseok shuffles into the kitchen, going past a K.Oed Minhyuk on the couch, in search of their instant ramen packages. The cabinets are filled with bags of chips, cookies, water bottles — but, alas, no ramen. They must’ve run out after Sunday, when he’d mourned over his paper.

The logical thing to do is either cook something else to eat, something healthy, or hop to the convenience store to buy some type of nourishment. Walking shouldn’t be on Hoseok’s agenda, so staying inside is his best bet. Staying inside... with no ramen.

Nah, Hoseok doesn’t really like that idea and, better yet, the mall is closer to the apartment than the convenience store is. Hyungwon has mentioned a new ramen place there, rated 10/10, and Hoseok has been too busy to try it out. He’s got some time now, right? One trip to the mall won’t hurt him.

Three ibuprofen pills and a small struggle to find socks later, Hoseok digs into his closet to find a coat. The one he normally wears isn’t there for some reason, so he settles for a thick overcoat with a lost button. It’s his second warmest.

“I will be back,” he declares, to no one in particular, and stumbles out the door.

By sheer luck Hoseok doesn’t slip on ice or get hit by any cars on his way to the mall. Inside, those who pass him stare as he cluelessly searches for a directory. Once he finds it he drags his finger over each of the restaurants, trying to pinpoint which is dedicated to ramen.

 _Flower Shop Ramen_. Hoseok wonders if they’re sponsored. There’s a drama with a name like that, which he still needs to watch, and it’s similar. The shop is in the food court, upstairs, and Hoseok dances the entire way there, dragging his hand along the railing as he rides the escalator.

Given the time and day many people are out for dinner, roaming around the various food joints with full trays and mouthwatering dishes. Hoseok spins around and tries to find where they serve ramen, reading the signs above, and nearly falls backwards from tilting so far. However, in doing so he finds _Flower Shop Ramen_ on the opposite side, a fair share of customers carrying hot bowls from the counter to the tables.

Hoseok scrambles to stand in line, staring at the menu that’s placed beside the register ahead of him. The list is full of all kinds of ramen — vegetable, Japanese-style, pork, seafood...

When it’s his turn to order all he can say is, “Ramen,” slack-jawed.

The cashier is not impressed at Hoseok’s simpleton talk. “Yes, we do serve ramen here. Your order, sir, has to be more specific than that,” she prods. “What can I get you?”

Hoseok can’t make up his mind, overwhelmed at the variety, and brings his fist to his teeth. “Which is the tastiest? No, which comes out the prettiest?”

It takes a few seconds for the cashier to realize Hoseok is genuine and isn’t pulling her leg, and she answers, “The Japanese-style has the best visual, in my opinion, and it includes a half-boiled egg, fish cakes—”

“That one, please!”

Hoseok pays (wow, he almost forgot to bring his wallet!) and later gets his bowl of ramen on a tray to bring to a table, marveling it as he walks. Of course it’s beautiful — it’s _ramen_. The noodles are curled around the bowl, the greens tucked in the broth. The egg is sliced in half, so cute, and Hoseok feels like the happiest person to ever exist. After having the worst week ever, from school to home to health, ramen is truly the only remedy for him.

Oh, how he can’t wait to taste it! He hasn’t had authentic ramen in ages, especially since he’s essentially living off the spare change under the couch cushions. The money he’s spent today was taken from his emergency funds, stored away for more practical uses like electricity bills. Well, he can worry about that later. All that matters now is his quality time with a delicious bowl of—

In the next moment, suddenly, Hoseok and his bowl of beautiful ramen come crashing down and onto the floor. Luckily the scalding hot broth misses Hoseok, so he’s safe from getting scalded, but his ramen is— is ruined! The collision has caused the ramen to completely spill, its contents out of the bowl, the noodles sad and limp.

The man who’d crashed into Hoseok — well, neither of them was paying attention, so technically they’d crashed into each other, but details are irrelevant — is dashingly familiar, a main character in Hoseok’s Week of Hell™. But the horrified expression on his face is new.

“Oh, geez, I’m so sorry,” Hyunwoo apologizes, stooping down to place the bowl back onto the tray. He meets eyes with Hoseok, undoubtedly recognizing him, and asks, “Are you okay?”

Hoseok, promptly, bursts into tears. The tears stream down his cheeks as he cries, much like a kid who got his lollipop stolen from him. If he wasn’t on such strong pain medication and could see straight he’d definitely slap some sense into himself, he’s in a _public place_ for Christ’s sake, but! He has to cry! This is absolutely tragic!

“I-I’ll pay you back, I swear,” Hyunwoo stammers, eyes wide. He has his hands awkwardly hovering over Hoseok’s crying figure, unsure of what to do.

“What’s the point? What’s the point of crying over spilled ramen?” wails Hoseok. “It’s not going to come back to life! That’s not how it works!” He sniffles into his sleeve, rubbing his face. “God is cruel! I haven’t done anything wrong! Why is masturbation even a sin!?”

Hyunwoo’s ears glow, much like Rudolph’s nose, and he glances around to survey the onlookers who skillfully avoid the spectacle. “Hoseok, seriously, are you okay? Are you feeling sick?” he asks, reaching for Hoseok’s hand. “You’re burning up.”

Eyes closed, the tears continuing to stream down his cheeks, Hoseok pathetically nods. “I am extremely sick right now, yes. How could you tell? Was it my face? Am I ugly? I don’t have makeup on,” he blubbers. He glances at the spilled ramen, chokes up, and grumbles, “This is not my week.”

That gets a short laugh out of Hyunwoo, who then stands up and holds Hoseok’s arm for him to stand, too. “Let’s get you out of the way,” he says, leading Hoseok away from the foot traffic.

Instinctively, Hoseok leans into Hyunwoo’s touch, basking in its gentleness. “You’re so soft,” he mumbles, “like a teddy bear. Or my grandma.” He pokes Hyunwoo’s forearm and frowns. “Except you’re more muscular than her.”

“Thank you...?”

Hyunwoo has Hoseok sit down at an empty table while he goes to _Flower Shop Ramen_ , probably telling them about the mess and asking if someone could clean it. Man, what a guy. Hyunwoo looks like the type to worry over strangers like that. To him, Hoseok is basically a stranger, but he’s being treated like a close friend with care. Hoseok’s cheeks are wet with tears, but they’re a little pink, too, because he likes being taken care of, likes having someone look out for him.

(Holy shit, he really _is_ a fourteen-year-old who’s still in the closest. Hoseok needs to punch Kihyun in the dick for being right.)

Hyunwoo comes back and says, “I’m taking you back home. Is that okay?”

“But! My ramen!” yells Hoseok, rising to his feet and staggering when his vision wavers. Thankfully, Hyunwoo catches him by the elbow before he can take another fall. “Okay, so maybe not.”

Because he’s an angel Hyunwoo piggybacks Hoseok for the whole walk back to the apartment. He never complains once, letting the exhausted Hoseok lay against his shoulder. Seriously, what a guy.

“You’re a dreamboat,” mutters Hoseok drowsily, and he can hear Hyunwoo chuckle. “A real knight in shining armor. Can you feel my heart beating? It’s like I’m the female lead in _Descendants of the_...”

And then he falls asleep.

—

On Saturdays Hoseok enjoys pouring himself a bowl of cereal, turning on MNet, and listening to lively stages by rookie girl and boy groups. That’s a routine of his, ever since he’s started college, and he’s pretty consistent with keeping it. The only time he couldn’t do that had been when Minhyuk got his hands stuck in an air vent and needed someone to scratch his nose (because _getting out_ wasn’t the priority back then).

Today should be Saturday, but Hoseok is not eating cereal, Minhyuk is nowhere in sight, and he seriously has no clue where he is. The bed is soft, with a hinted scent of mint, and the blanket is tucked warmly around Hoseok. The layout of the room is similar to his own apartment, but there are tons of things that can’t be his or Minhyuk’s — a Lee Hyori poster, a Hello Kitty night light, an oversized stereo. He does, however, recognize his favorite coat... and suddenly it all makes sense.

With the comforter wrapped around his shoulders Hoseok comes out of the bedroom, cautious. He waddles to the couch, where he sees a pair of bare feet poking over the ledge.

Hyunwoo is there, swiping through his SNS, and perks up after spotting Hoseok. “Good morning,” he greets. “Feeling any better?”

Hoseok nods, since his sinuses are clearer and his head doesn’t ache. His palms are sweaty, though, mostly out of nervousness. “Did I... break into your apartment?” he asks carefully.

Hyunwoo sits up and assures, “No, no, no. Don’t worry.” He lets Hoseok take a seat beside him as he explains, “You almost passed out in the mall and I carried you back home. Ah, well, _my_ home. You fell asleep before you could give me your keys.”

“This is mortifying,” mutters Hoseok, pressing his hands to his cheeks.

“Endearing, I’d say.”

Hoseok blushes harder. “What was I even doing at the mall? I was bedridden yesterday!”

“You were getting ramen,” Hyunwoo says, “which I accidentally made you spill. Sorry about that, by the way.”

Hoseok has a vague recollection of that happening, and it’s just getting more and more embarrassing for him. “You’ve done more than enough for me! No need to apologize,” he proclaims. “You even had to deal with me crying, like... not pretty.”

“I still wanted to make it up to you,” insists Hyunwoo. He heads towards the kitchen and opens the fridge, taking out a clear container. (It’s ramen! From _Flower Shop Ramen_! That’s what the label says!) “I didn’t know when you’d wake up, so I guess I can heat this up—”

“Now!” shouts Hoseok. Hyunwoo looks at him quizzically, bemused. “Breakfast ramen,” he tries, curling his lips. “How about it?”

“I’ll make some some coffee, too,” suggests Hyunwoo.

So Hoseok and Hyunwoo have their first date at Hyunwoo’s apartment — breakfast, with Japanese-style ramen and coffee on the side. Neither of them is dressed for an occasion like this, Hoseok’s clothes a day old and Hyunwoo in his pajamas, but they enjoy their time together to the fullest.

Hoseok learns that Hyunwoo is a dancer, studying music and art history. They actually have passed one another before, at a dance competition Hyungwon and Minhyuk had competed in. Coincidentally, Hyunwoo’s roommate is Jooheon — the night light is his, apparently. Hoseok and Hyunwoo have a good laugh at that.

Things don’t _really_ go right, but Hoseok is fine with that. It should take a few bumps in the road to get to the final destination.

—

Nothing inherently unlucky happens to Hoseok on Sunday. He’s as healthy as can be, but Minhyuk still has a fever, which gives Hyungwon an excuse to stay over. They make sure to tell Hoseok when they’re going to fuck in the bathroom, and Hoseok is both relieved and disgusted. He makes sure to leave the apartment, his cell phone in his pocket, as he meets Hyunwoo at the gym.

Nothing as horrible as that week happens for a long time, which Hoseok is immensely grateful for. Things go by smoothly, and he can say that his life is starting to come together. He’s dating Hyunwoo now, and they regularly have dates when the time permits. Everything is going swell, with their typical highs and lows.

Truthfully, nothing of interest occurs until a couple months later when Hoseok gets a call from a frazzled Kihyun in the middle of the night.

“ _Where’s my ₩500 coin, you kinky bastard_?”

Hoseok hangs up, of course, and goes back to bed, where Hyunwoo’s arms are the perfect size to snuggle into.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  credit @[beastdw](http://beastdw.tumblr.com/post/146863803729)
> 
> check me out @[whateverbroski](http://whateverbroski.tumblr.com) on tumblr to see how multifandom & inconsistent i am


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